


Just Right (Now)

by streddies



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Kinda angst???, M/M, THE GAYS - Freeform, but its a good ending i promise, reupload because this did so bad, the ending that they deserved ngl, they are baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 15:57:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streddies/pseuds/streddies
Summary: He imagined what life would have been like if they’d never truly lost touch. The whole Losers Club attending his shows with barely hidden smiles, Stan and Eddie doing their very best to hide the fact that they secretly did think Richie was funny. Mike and Ben congratulating him profusely or teasing him on his unwritten material. Bev and Bill acting like proud parents, gushing and telling him that he had done so great. It would have been good, natural. To have his friends surrounding him and Eddie tucked into the curve of his arm.That’s how things should have been.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	Just Right (Now)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this fic is def inspired by soft-hart's tumblr art!! I literally have no idea how to tag it?? But its so good and even though the fic is a bit different it's pretty much completely based off of that art.

Richie’s head was throbbing.

All of his thoughts were spinning, his mind still fuzzed over and boggled from the last few hours. The Neibolt house had collapsed, they had gone down to the Barrens and jumped into the river in a fit of childhood recollection and numbness. The water had been cold, icy and leaving each one of his limbs tingling with the newfound feeling of exposure. It did well to sober him up, leaving Richie with the weight of killing IT perched freshly on his shoulders. Unlike when they were younger, this celebration was not as cheerful. This celebration was a tribute to those they had lost, or those they had almost lost. Stan. Eddie. Georgie. Bill.

Richie could only cry numbly as his friends surrounded him in the lake with warm arms, wrapping him up in a tender embrace and attempting to soothe his aching heart. Although he had lived without these memories for so long, the last twenty-four hours had only reinforced his attachment to The Losers Club and the people that were in it. 

His glasses were still warm, splattered with Eddie’s blood and dripping steadily into the lake beneath him, turning the surrounding yellow-green water into a disturbing pink. It made his skin itch, seeing how real this all was despite the bizarreness of the situation. 

Richie was famous. He did tours and booked shows and had fans notice him on the street. He had paparazzi and interviews and was invited to be on all sorts of movie or television sets. Richie didn’t fight killer clowns or make blood oths, he didn’t fall in love with his childhood best friend and suppress his sexuality for years because of it. Richie was supposed to be doing better. He wasn’t supposed to be ‘Bucky Beaver’ anymore, that scrawny scrappy kid with oversized shirts, too big glasses and mismatched front teeth. He wasn’t supposed to worry about Henry Bowers or if Eddie saw him ogling at his legs for too long. Richie was supposed to be happy.

Going back home, remembering all the fights and the near-death experiences had only left him realizing how empty those twenty seven years had been. No Bev to go out for a smoke with, no Eddie to tease for his mom or his new polo, no Stan to “beep-beep” him or take his ego down a peg. No real friends, no real love or connection with anyone around him. 

He imagined what life would have been like if they’d never truly lost touch. The whole Losers Club attending his shows with barely hidden smiles, Stan and Eddie doing their very best to hide the fact that they secretly did think Richie was funny. Mike and Ben congratulating him profusely or teasing him on his unwritten material. Bev and Bill acting like proud parents, gushing and telling him that he had done so great. It would have been good, natural. To have his friends surrounding him and Eddie tucked into the curve of his arm. 

That’s how things should have been.

Though sitting in the lake with his friends arms around him, Richie cried for the life that he had lost. For the life that he had never gotten the pleasure to live due to his fears and his timidness. Maybe if he had just told Eddie things would have been different. 

Even though Richie had been notorious for never being able to keep his mouth shut, the one topic that he should have opened it for was unspoken. 

Richie loved Eddie. He’d known it from the second that he was introduced to the asthmatic kid who wore short shorts and a fanny pack without shame. Eddie was beautiful in every single way, and rough around the edges all the same. Despite his “girly” or softer appearance, he was the only person who could easily render Richie speechless with minimal effort. His jabs and quips were strong enough to rival that of the Trashmouth, it was endlessly amusing to see him bicker all foulmouthed with Richie and call his mother, “Mommy”, within the same sentence. 

Eddie Kaspbrak was perfect for him in every single way, shape and form. He knew Richie’s ticks, his nervous habits, and most importantly, how to shut him up. Though regardless of all their playful fighting, they got along like a house on fire. 

They had affectionate nicknames and handshakes, they traded coins at the arcade and shared popcorn at the movies. Whenever Richie went off to get himself an ice cream, he would always get one for Eddie, and vice versa. It was never a debate or a question, “Hey why did Richie only get stuff for him and Eddie?” It was just silent understanding, that’s how they were. They took care of one another without a second thought. 

So as the battered Losers Club emerged from the lake with their scrapes and bruises, Richie dressed himself quietly back into his jacket and followed them to the hotel. No one spoke on the walk back, though Ben’s hand was clasped firmly around Beverly’s and Richie’s heart throbbed painfully at the sight. He followed a few paces back, recalling fondly how during the blood oath his hand had been held gently by Eddie’s. So Richie watched with regret and walked silently, wondering what could have been. 

________________________________________________________________

Richie knelt by the Kissing Bridge, a faint smile across his lips at all of the memories that trickled back automatically at first glance. He remembered walking by a few times before with the rest of the Losers, laughing and joking around about how it was such a gross tradition every teenage in Derry seemed to be obsessed with. Carving whole names (or occasionally just initials) onto the bridge to make it aware to everyone who visited just who was in love with who. 

Although Richie had made fun of it for years (bugging Bill and Beverly about it pretty harshly), he eventually ended up succumbing to the rite of passage. Riding down to the Kissing Bridge one day later that summer, his knees still scraped and his glasses falling off his nose, and carving in his own initials.  
The faded R + E was exactly where he remembered leaving it, surrounded by other names and whatnot. Though Richie could only stare at it with fond longing, laughing internally at himself for how ridiculous this all seemed to be. Twenty seven years later, after fighting a shapeshifting killer clown, this was still the first thing he chose to do once disbanding from the rest of the Losers. To proclaim his love for Eddie in the only way he wasn’t afraid to, by carving their initals together on the fucking Kissing Bridge of all godforsaken places. 

Twenty seven years later, Richie was still the same lovestruck idiot. The same Trashmouth who was in love with little Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie with his stupid fucking colored short shorts and his fanny pack, with his dumb inhaler and his pastel polos. God, how Richie’s heart was so wholly and completely dedicated to him, and Eddie had never even suspected a thing. 

Richie would always love Eddie. Even after they had left Derry for the first time, Richie had never once found someone who could rival Eddie Kaspbrak for the ownership of his heart. And Richie knew deep down that he never would. 

So with flushed cheeks and wet eyes, Richie raised his hand to start carving. Reinforcing the affection that still brightly burned within his chest for the man that he had secretly loved for so many long years. Acknowledging that his first, and true love was still something that he cherished deeply (and would cherish deeply for years to pass). 

Scratching the barely-there outline of the R, Richie couldn’t help but bite down harshly against his lip. Hundreds of memories buried deep in his mind being resurfaced within a single instant, reminding him of warm summers and melting ice cream that he found himself longing for. His eyes glazed over, wet and full with unshed tears as his trembling fingers hovered over the covered E.

“Holy shit.”

The voice was sudden, startling and quickly had Richie turning around to find the source of it. His mind had frozen over, back to that familiar haze of panicky nerves that he had come to accept as a teenager. Hands locked in place just above the E outline, the knife perched between his fingers and preparing to lock in his love forever against the Kissing Bridge, Richie turned to see Eddie. 

Eddie was standing just a few paces behind him, hands on his side amongst the mass of bandages across his stomach with his face twisted into a brilliant, beautiful smile. Regardless of the scratches, the bandage on his face from where Bowers had stabbed him, the grime and the grit, Eddie was still the most gorgeous thing that Richie had ever seen. His eyes shone warmly, cheeks glowing with color and hair tousled from the wind. He was even still wearing the same outfit that he had on earlier, stupid torn red sweater and dirty blue pants. Yet the sight easily had Richie’s heart lurching fondly, pounding heavy in his chest as he just gaped at his best friend.

“You were serious- You really did write it.” Eddie seemed positively giddy and sort of lovestruck, like a child discovering that their crush was returned. He was completely flushed now, moving closer to gawk happily at Richie’s handiwork and make sure that the sight was real. Not just a delusion from his medications they had given him at the hospital. 

When the Losers had dropped Eddie at the hospital before returning to the lake, Richie could remember his fearful (and very tearful) confession. Unsure if Eddie would even make it through the car ride, Richie had admitted everything to what he had assumed were deaf ears. His crush, his little fantasy slowly developing into something more serious, the carving of their names on the Kissing Bridge. Spilling his guts while Eddie died in his arms, not wanting to ever have to live with that regret, that constant wondering ‘what if?’. If Eddie was going to die, Richie wasn’t going to let him go without knowing how truly and deeply loved that he had been for his entire life. 

So that led them here, Richie completely paralyzed and unable to do anything besides openly gawk and gape at Eddie. Reminding him faintly of all the times when the long awaited summer had finally rolled around, and Richie was left to finally catch a glimpse of Eddie in those bright red shorts. 

“You-” Richie’s voice came out broken and garbled, clearly stricken with shock and disbelief. Not only a few hours ago was Eddie sinking into that horrible hospital bed, his skin an alien mix of green and white as he groaned with each slight movement. It had been agonizing to watch, looking at the love of his life twist and groan and shriek for neverending hours with a gaping hole in his chest. There was nothing Richie could even do, no words or touches could soothe the torment that Eddie was experiencing. 

Seeing such a sight seemed like Pennywise hadn’t just been killed mere minutes ago. It felt like watching a nightmare, having Eddie be right in front of him and wracked with pains that Richie couldn’t stop. Dreading up old flashes of their first visit to the Neibolt house where IT had tormented him through Eddie, mocking him. Though the most chilling part had been how IT knew this whole time. While Richie suppressed and hid and buried his feelings, IT still had always known that Eddie was his weak spot. 

“How are you-?”

Eddie was still smiling, appearing as if he was a mirage full of grace and unworldly beauty. He was quiet though as he lifted up the curve of his shirt to reveal a faded scar stretched from just above his belly button to just above his heart. 

The skin had somehow healed over, similarly to how all of the scars on their palms had faded after IT had been defeated. Immediately Richie was dumbstruck, his breath catching in his throat as he silently took in the sight of his love before him, healthy and alive. 

Eddie was okay.

Those moments he had spent sobbing by Eddie’s side, cursing himself for not moving faster, for not doing something sooner, they faded away to nothing in an instant. It felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, that the stone wedged deep over his heart was now gone and replaced with an indescribable burning passion. That even if Eddie didn’t return his feelings, that even if Eddie wanted to return to his wife regardless of what they had been through, he was still alive and safe. 

Suddenly Eddie was moving, his steps confident and familiar as he knelt down beside Richie, still noticeably beaming with warmth. 

“Here, pass it.”

Dumbly, Richie just stared at him with wide eyes behind his glasses. “Pass…?”

Now taking initiative, Eddie gingerly took the knife from Richie’s trembling fingers and laughed. His demeanor was gentle and friendly, as though escaping death only moments ago was the very last thing on his mind at the moment. Moving a little closer to get a better angle, Eddie raised his hand to the side of the bridge and began to carve. 

R + E

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is professionalpartycrasher if yall wanna say hi or give me suggestions for future fics!!


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